


love in the time of war

by fishstick



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Decisions, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Threesome, baggage galore, dirty old men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7374694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishstick/pseuds/fishstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is a fifteen-year-old boy - which, of course, is never a good excuse, but you have to have <i>something</i> to explain yourself with when you're standing in front of the Corporal with his dirty underwear in one hand and your dick in the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love in the time of war

It started with a bar of soap.

Eren had been tasked with cleaning the showers; a daunting chore, no doubt, for any male member of the Survey Corps. Every soldier, with the exception of a few high-level officers, was forced to use the communal bathrooms for all their hygienic needs. This - a hundred-plus sweaty, rough, battle-hardened men rotating through fifty shower stalls on a daily basis, shaving and pissing and scrubbing and stinking wherever they went - made keeping anything clean a huge effort.

But what else was a trainee for, except scut work? _Never mind that I'm a Titan Shifter,_ Eren sneered to himself. _I might as well be a maid._

It was the Corporal's fault, mainly. Nobody else would care if the showers didn't see a good bleaching more than twice a year. Levi insisted on a weekly rotation. The toilets and the sinks, too. Maybe even the tile and mirrors, depending on his mood.

What was the point if he didn’t even _use_ the showers? Eren would have bet a small fortune that Levi had his own private suite; a full-size, luxurious bath with white marble counters free of god-knows whatever he was worried about touching him.

Eren admired Levi. He really did. But _fuck_ his germ obsession. The man was half-crazy.

Suddenly, a heavy, wooden creak shattered the oppressive silence that had begun to settle into his mind. Eren listened as boots clicked sharply against rough stone, signaling a someone's rapid entry. The crisp sounds boomeranged throughout the otherwise-empty showers, creating an eerie echo that reached Eren's ears with a premonition.

_Jean._

No doubt about it. _Probably coming to fill his daily asshole quota,_ Eren thought. Jean was an insufferable bastard, and seemed to love nothing more than hanging over Eren's shoulder and nagging him as he performed his menial daily duties. Though he got a special kick out of antagonizing the Titan boy, all of the squad members had long since grown used to his bullshit. Only a handful of the trainees received an exemption from his incessant bitching.

"Jean, I swear that I'm going to eat you someday," Eren growled, not looking up as he scrubbed the sinks. His hands were bright red and lye-burnt. "Or maybe I'll just bite off your dick so Mikasa doesn't have to worry about it touching her in her sleep."

"The fuck did you just say, brat?"

Eren nearly hit the mirror when he jumped. He knew that tone all too well. He willed himself to look at his reflection - sure enough, he could see Levi standing a few feet behind him, staring. None too joyously at that.

Eren's next response came without thought: his arms shot down to his sides, back straightening abruptly. "S-sorry! Sir!"

"Stop doing that, Jaeger."

Eren began to redden.

"Easy!" Levi snapped. Immediately, Eren's upper body relaxed. "For fuck's sake, do you have to stand at attention every time I walk by?"

Eren looked down at the floor and tried not to scowl. "No, sir."

Of course he knew it wasn't necessary. He did it out of pure reflex, because the Corporal intimidated the everloving shit out of him, and the man’s very presence could send shivers coursing down his spine. Looking directly into Levi's eyes, Eren could almost taste the blood in his mouth; he remembered vividly how his molar had looked after he spat it out, so small and white and against the brownness of his palm.

"Look at me, Jaeger."

Eren looked.

Levi's brows furrowed, irritation suggested by the thin set of his mouth. "I won't hurt you, Eren."

"I know."

The man's eyes were incredibly blue, like the glimmering ocean pictures in Armin's precious geography books. It was distracting. Eren tried to stay focused, but his mind kept drawing comparisons between an iceberg in the sea and Levi's cold gaze.

"-then stop fucking acting like a frightened animal and more like a soldier," Levi was saying. His arms crossed over his chest. "Are you listening to me, brat?"

Eren blinked desperately. He realized that he had momentarily transported himself to _that_ place _—_ the place in his mind that contained the sort of dirt that lye could never hope to touch. The place that, as Armin had pointed out, he'd been going to a lot lately.

Armin claimed that it was a dangerous place to go - that there were better methods of coping, that he shouldn't entertain thoughts of things that he'd never do in real life. _As a Titan Shifter,_ Armin would say, _your thoughts manifest themselves in ways much more visceral and terrifying than most people's. You have to be careful, Eren._

But he couldn't help himself.

"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!"

"You can't lie for shit, Jaeger." Levi adjusted the towel on his shoulder in an almost flippant manner. For the first time, Eren registered the bundle of clothing tucked neatly under his arm. "You weren't paying a lick of attention."

Eren didn't know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent. He felt like he was burning holes in the ground with his feet. He fingered the bar of soap in his right hand, hoping to amend his impudence with cleaning—vowing that the moment Levi turned around, he'd get back to scrubbing the sinks with a vengeance.

"Anyways, Jaeger," Levi said, and finally his gaze slackened, moving to scrutinize some other unfortunate object. "I don't bite unless provoked. Believe me when I say that."

 _I do,_ Eren thought. His eyes fell upon Levi's neck. He imagined teeth marks.

“Don’t you have your own shower?" he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

"What?" It was almost a sound of derision, a half-snort of amusement. Levi glanced over his shoulder. "You think I'm some sort of princess, brat? It's not _that_ kind of castle."

Eren mentally kicked himself. He positioned himself squarely on two feet, faced the mirror, and resumed attacking his chores in silence, hoping that his cheeks weren't too pink. He ceased to pay attention to the roughness of the soap on his hands, the stripped flesh making them raw and red and warm as he worked. By the time Levi had turned on the water in his shower, Eren's nose was full of the stifling caustic odor.

Honestly, it was surprising that no one else had come to disturb him yet. He rarely managed to accomplish more than an hour's worth of chores before Hanji, Petra, or some other important officer interrupted him and spirited him away. His muscles constantly ached; they had yet to allow him a day for his body to repair. And, even if they left him alone, others might not. Jean would stop by, or worse, if possible—one of the other soldiers that didn't esteem him so highly. One that didn't like being in the same military position as a _monster._

Though Jean had a mouth like a motor, he rarely swung his weight around. That couldn't be said of some; they were like pendulums, looking for the next person to crash into. Eren was the perfect target for their sadism.

It was all he could do to not fight back. When his vision tinged red, when the injustice nearly blinded him, he thought of Levi. Levi's foot making contact with his gut, Levi's knee slamming into his cheek. Levi sitting next to him after the trial.

Levi's scorn held him in place, every time. He would rather the ground swallow him whole than face the Corporal's disapproval.

 _Yes, that's it._ Eren gripped the edge of the counter so hard that his fingertips began to turn white. His face, he knew, was flushing, and he didn't want to see it.

_That's all it is._

* * *

 "Eren, are you all right?"

They sat side-by-side under a tree, sprawled out gracelessly on the castle grounds. From a distance, they could hear the whinnying of horses in the stables and the shouts of other trainees engaged in combat practice. Voices danced around them, soldiers coming and going but never encroaching on their privacy. Rarely was a moment like this one to be found; an hour of peace and relaxation had been allotted to them today, and for that they were both incredibly grateful. Armin had been planning on spending his time sifting through books in the dingy castle library, looking at atlases and maps and other insufferably boring things. Thankfully, Eren managed to convince him otherwise.

Occasional gusts of wind ruffled the grass around them, creating a rippling mirage of green. Eren tossed an apple into the air and caught it with his left hand.

"What?"

 Armin frowned. "You had a look on your face."

"I always have a look on my face."

"I know." Armin watched the apple fall into Eren’s lap. "What are you thinking about?"

Eren glanced up at Armin. He knew he had the most expressive face in the world – something about his cheekbones, his jawline; he didn't know. It was just a fact, and nobody realized it better than himself. This time, he didn't try to conceal his expression. He waited for the accusation to come.

Like clockwork, Armin's eyes went wide. "Oh, Eren," he sighed. "You're going to _that_ place again, aren't you?"

"I'm not," he mumbled. His half-hearted tone wouldn't have convinced Jean to steal Mikasa's panties.

"Eren." A deep groan issued from Armin's throat. "You know you've got to stop thinking about him. It's... it's not right. It’s dangerous."

"Do you think I give a fuck?" Eren snapped. The constant badgering was beginning to wear him down. He knew Armin was right, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Do you have any idea the kind of shit they make me do on a daily basis? I'm not allowed to keep anything private. Hanji knows what color my pubes are." His fists tightened into rocks at his side. "I don't need _you_ to make it worse."

Armin opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to dissipate on his tongue. His blue gaze, always so tender and honest, suddenly filled with hurt. "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Immediately, Eren wished he could erase his words. "No, it's fine... I didn't mean to sound so angry." 

They lapsed into quiet for several moments, watching the back-and-forth of the world around them. The clean air and the cool breeze, the endless crawling of the clouds across the sun's path. The hammering of hooves and calm voices of soldiers tending to the horses. And, up above, birds flying in fearless V-shaped formations; eternally unafraid and ignorant of the troubles facing the creatures living below.

Armin broke the silence first. "You're not the only one who has it rough, you know."

"I _know_."

"And you need to remember that it's not about you," he added. His eyes were on Eren's hands as they worked, rocking the bruised apple between his palms like a small and broken child. "It's about everyone. It's about the war."

Eren frowned. "I know that, Armin." Across the yard, he could see the tall, dark-haired form of Mikasa whip around as she shadow-boxed an unseen assailant. She spared him no punches, her jaw forming a tight line of hyperfocus as she dodged left and right. Her relentlessness was amazing. And slightly terrifying.

"I know you know," Armin said. "You know better than anyone." He reached down to pick up a blade of grass and began shredding it between his fingers. "You're not going to stop thinking about him, are you?"

"I can't."

"All right." Armin sighed. "Just don't do anything drastic, please? Promise me you won't."

Eren looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean by drastic?"

* * *

 He'd gone back for the soap.

Levi was in the shower. He knew that because Levi only came in when nobody else was around - how he managed to do that, Eren didn't know. Also, his boots were sitting in perfect alignment outside of the stall's curtain. Only he arranged them that way.

Only Levi would use that scent of shampoo. The vague hint of summery something, of various smells that could only be found in the Capitol. Eren had been there once. It resembled the flora and fauna sold by vendors aboveground. Soldiers weren't supposed to use scented things to wash themselves, in case the Titans picked up on their odors during expeditions. But Hanji had once let it slip that Levi was born in the Capitol.

A heap of dirty laundry sat in a wicker basket outside of the stall. Only Levi would place them neatly in a container instead of just leaving them crumpled on the cold stone. After all, _somebody_ \- usually Eren - mopped the floor once a week.

Eren was thinking about the smell of the shampoo and the laundry basket. The smell and the laundry. Smell. Laundry.

Suddenly, cataclysmically, the two things collided in his mind.

"No," he hissed at himself. He glared at his reflection, bared his canines in the mirror. "You can't."

It wasn't very convincing.

He stood there for a few more moments. He ran his hands through his hair, twisted his fingers together, swallowed roughly. Nothing could shake the thought. It was intrusive, impulsive. Inappropriate. And the more he discouraged it, the more he was forced to entertain it. The more he entertained it, the more it grew in his mind.

Now he swore he could almost taste that goddamn shampoo. It was on the tip of his tongue; the heady scent of something, maybe baked goods, flowers, citrus, who the hell knew—every private little fantasy that he'd ever enjoyed was dancing circles around his good morals, and he could no longer think straight. That place in between his thighs, the place that would get so excited by the sight of the Corporal in his cape and riding boots, with his gaze like ice and blades in his hands—

 _No, no, no,_ begged the angel on his shoulder. _Don't do it_ , _Eren._

 _Shut up, you prude,_ the devil quipped. _He'll never notice. Just one pair._

But the angel wouldn’t have it. _Remember when Armin told you not to do anything drastic? Well, this was exactly what he meant._

_Of course it's drastic. And we're desperate._

Without realizing it, Eren had already started running his tongue over his lips.

 _Well, we're in the military, aren't we? Everyone is a little desperate here. We all suffer in the same way._ For some reason, the angel was beginning to sound a lot like Armin. _And we'll be no better than Jean if we act on such base desires._

_Base desires? I don't know what that means, but it sounds hot._

_Not as hot as the water we'll be in if he finds out we stole his underwear._

But it was too late. Eren was already speedwalking out of the bathroom by the time the angel brought up that point.

He didn't even make it back to the sleeping barracks before the shame got to him. He snuck into a closet, locked himself in and began to shake.

"Shit, shit, shit," he whispered, muffling his face in Levi's briefs. "I'm so _fucked_."

He ran his fingers through his hair, bit his hand (but not too hard), clawed at his face, rubbed his eyes, lightly and inaudibly smacked himself. He clutched the object of agony to his chest. The aroma was one of dampness, of heavy perspiration and Levi's distinct Capitol ointment; all mixed together into a potent cocktail of pure, undiluted man. It had been rumored that the Corporal didn't sweat. Eren now knew that was a lie.

He wanted to be disgusted with himself. He truly did, but he was already hard.


End file.
